


No More Secrets

by mnemosyne23



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Adult Wendy Marvell, Angst and Smut, Developing Relationship, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-26 16:05:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18182753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mnemosyne23/pseuds/mnemosyne23
Summary: It was the third time he'd gotten an invitation to Wendy's birthday party, and the third time he spent the night getting hammered instead.





	No More Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> I actually began writing this before "The (Un)Luckiest Man in Fairy Tail?", but the idea for that one just wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it and got it posted. This one has a much different tone, because I love beating up emotionally on poor Mest so that Wendy can put him back together. These two really need more fics dedicated to them. There's so much wonderful potential for angst and sweetness.
> 
>  
> 
> As I mentioned in "(Un)Luckiest Man", I like to age these two up so I can 'ship them properly. In this fic, Wendy's 20 and Mest is 33.

The liquor burned down Mest’s throat. It was bottom shelf stuff, cheap and rough, and the bartender knew him well enough to leave the bottle. 

 

This wasn’t pleasure drinking with friends, or celebrating some social occasion, or even the casual drunkenness of a perennial barfly looking to attract some company for the night. Oh no. Mest was here to get hammered, preferably as quickly and thoroughly as possible, using the kind of alcohol that in any other venue might be mistaken for industrial solvent. He was drinking to forget, and you couldn’t do that as quickly and completely as he wanted to by drinking something aged in oak barrels. This needed something that had been fermented in a bathtub two weeks ago, then pumped through corroded copper pipes into jugs labeled “XXX”. This needed alcohol so strong a proof label would just burn off the bottle.

 

“You might want to slow it down a little, buddy,” the bartender mused, idly wiping down the bar near Mest’s elbow. “You’ll end up forgetting your own name at this rate, and I don’t know if you’ll ever get it back.”

 

Mest dragged his eyes up from their studious contemplation of the pockmarked counter and fixed them on the barkeep. Without looking away he poured the last few drops of rotgut into his well-used glass, then extended the empty bottle in the other man’s direction. “Same again,” he said, in a voice so dead it might as well have been spoken by a corpse. “And I want the pure stuff this time. Not this watered down crap.”

 

Garrett frowned. He’d worked this bar for the last thirty years; owned it for the last fifteen. In that time he’d seen a lot of people try to drink their problems away. But anyone who worked as hard at is as Mest was doing right now usually ended up dead in an alley before sunrise. 

 

“I think I’m going to have to cut you off, Mest,” the older man said, not unkindly. 

 

“That’s bullshit, Garry.”

 

“You know it’s not.”

 

“How many years I been comin’ here, Garry?”

 

“Long enough for me to know you still haven’t found whatever it is you’re looking for at the bottom of that bottle. Maybe it’s time you start looking somewhere else instead.”

 

Mest fumed. “I’m not even DRUNK yet! You can’t cut a man off when he’s not even DRUNK yet!”

 

Garry tucked the towel into his apron and leaned on the counter to look the wizard dead in the eye. “I can and I will,” he said calmly. “You’ve been coming here for years, and I’d like you to _keep_ coming here for years more. You’re good business. But I don’t want your corpse on my conscience, all right?”

 

Mest snorted and teleported behind the bar. He wasn’t drunk, but he was muzzy enough that he ended up almost sitting in Garry’s lap rather than further down and to the right, where the cheap, clear liquor with fumes like paint thinner was stored. “Shit.”

 

Garry rolled his eyes and easily lifted the tipsy wizard back up and over the bar, depositing him back on his barstool. A man didn’t work in a bar on the seedier side of Magnolia for thirty years without putting on enough muscle to function as his own bouncer. “Do I need to call the authorities down here, Mest? Get you on a drunk and disorderly?”

 

Mest laughed. “Call the authorities? I _am_ the authorities, Garry!”

 

“Not tonight you’re not. Tonight you’re just another guy trying to forget about a girl.”

 

Mest’s half-drunk haze evaporated and he was instantly sober again. “Shut up.”

 

“You think it’s some kind of secret? Buddy, nine out of ten guys who come down here any given week to get drunk do it either because they hate their job or because of a girl. I know you’ve got that first one down pat, but it’s the second one that eats you up the most. Who is she? You’ve been drinking her away at least as long as I’ve known you, and that’s going on ten years. What’d she do, rob you blind and take the dog?”

 

“It’s none of your business, Garry.”

 

“You’re trying to kill yourself because of her using my bar as the weapon. I think that makes it my business.”

 

Grumbling under his breath Mest dug his wallet out of his back pocket. Tossing a wad of bills onto the counter he gestured behind the bar. “At least give me one bottle for the road, if you’re going to be such a mother hen. I’ll go get plastered in the comforts of my own home, thank you very much. This place smells like rat piss.”

 

“That’s incense,” Garrett corrected, grabbing a bottle of (watered down) whiskey and handing it across to the fuming wizard. If Mest was going to kill himself, he wasn’t going to do it with Garrett’s best bathtub gin. With the whiskey all he’d manage on his own was the world’s worst hangover. “It’s supposed to keep bad mojo away.”

 

“It’s rat piss, Garry. If you got that shit from Bickslow he ripped you off.”

 

The bartender shrugged. “I haven’t had a lick of trouble since I started burning it, so as far as I’m concerned, it works.”

 

“Yeah, because no one wants to drink someplace that stinks of rat piss. That’s why.”

 

“Yet here you are, giving me grief.”

 

Mest rolled his eyes and tucked the bottle of whiskey into his coat pocket. “See ya, Garry.”

 

As he opened the door, letting in a gust of cold winter air, the bartender called out to him. “No woman’s worth the misery you put yourself through, Gryder.”

 

Mest stared back over his shoulder, his hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle in his pocket. 

 

“This one is,” he finally said, then disappeared out into the snow.

 

##################

 

Mest Gryder’s apartment was a studio; just a place to stop in between assignments, and it showed. His furniture was anything he could find cheap that did the job he needed it to do. There was a single battered bureau, a louvered wardrobe, and a stained mattress atop a creaky box spring and an even creakier frame. He didn’t bother with a headboard, because why would he? His bedside table was a collapsible dinner tray and the lamp upon it was just a bare bulb in a wire frame. The light it shed cast sharp shadows on the grim gray paint the landlord had slapped on the four blank walls to hide any imperfections in the plaster. The room’s two windows were long and thin, and allowed just enough sunlight into the room to chase away the worst of the gloom in the daytime, and to allow a bright shaft of moonlight to fall across the bed at night.

 

Mest hadn’t made the bed in at least a month, so the blankets were in a ball by his feet as he reclined on the bunched up pillows, his head resting against the wall as he took a pull from the half-empty bottle of whiskey and stared at the blades of his motionless ceiling fan. If he’d been feeling more motivated he might have tried to tackle the mountain of dirty dishes in his sink in the little galley kitchen, or maybe picked up the dirty clothes currently clumped in piles around the room. But he did _not_ feel motivated, and decided that tonight -- and maybe tomorrow, and possibly the next day -- he was going to get stoned drunk, and stay that way until he forgot the word for “blue.”

 

Letting his head roll to the side, he fixed his turquoise eyes on the shiny piece of laminated card stock on his bedside table. Blue. It was a dark, sapphire blue, with gold embossed letters across the front that read _Celebrate!_ He’d read it enough times that he had memorized the details on the back. 

 

_You’re invited!_

_Come join all your friends at the Fairy Tail guild  
as we celebrate Wendy Marvell’s 20th birthday!_

_Saturday, December 12  
6pm to 2am_

_See you at the guild hall!_

 

The exclamation points further soured his mood. Their forced cheeriness left a bad taste in his mouth, which he tried fruitlessly to wash away with the whiskey.

 

This was the third December in a row he’d received an invitation to Wendy’s birthday, and the third December in a row he’d spent the night getting drunk and hoping he’d wake up in someone else’s life the next morning. 

 

It didn’t escape his notice that he hadn’t received such an invitation to anyone else’s birthday celebration. It certainly hadn’t escaped his notice that the first time he got such an invitation at all it was to Wendy’s _18th_ birthday. He wondered what sick fuck down at the guild hall had put that little plan in motion. Probably Laxus. 

 

Or no: BICKSLOW. 

 

Fucking Bickslow. Ever since the seith had taken up with Lisanna he’d been pestering Mest about his own “younger woman” problem; as if the two were even remotely comparable. Lisanna was already of age by the time Bickslow figured out she existed and was gorgeous taboot. And anyway, in the grand scheme of things, a five year age gap was nothing.

 

But thirteen years? That was something else entirely.

 

Mest closed his eyes and let his head thunk back against the wall as he raised his free hand to rub his temple. It had been easier, back in the day, when he could write his feelings off as mere brotherly concern. And that’s all it _had_ been, once upon a time. 

 

(He very, VERY firmly ignored whatever feelings he might have possibly imagined himself feeling the first time he saw Wendy’s face atop Katja’s body during the scramble to prevent the reconstitution of the Infinity Clock. That was something that didn’t need exploring, especially not when he was drunk.)

 

Thanks to his work with the Magic Council he barely got to see Wendy after her return from Tenrou, though every time he did he couldn’t avoid noticing how much she’d grown, physically and emotionally. By the time they’d weathered Alvarez she’d felt like a different person from the little girl who’d cried about letting him down during the S-Class trials all those years before.

 

Oh Mavis. He hated seeing Wendy cry. Hated even more when he was the one who _made_ her cry.

 

She’d been twelve when Tenrou took her away; twelve to his eighteen. By the time she exploded back into his life he’d already put another seven years between them; a literal lifetime to the little twelve year old girl who emerged from the ashes of Fairy Tail’s sacred island. 

 

But she wasn’t a twelve year old girl anymore; hadn’t been for years. And _gods_ , Mest could _tell_.

 

Gone was all pretense of brotherly concern. She was twenty now, he was thirty-three, and all he wanted to do was bury his face in her silky blue hair and tell her everything he’d wanted to say for the last two years; ever since he’d mustered up the courage to admit that yes, he really DID want her _that_ way, and no, she wasn’t really his little sister at all and never actually had been. 

 

So he’d poured himself out of one bottle labeled “Guilt over Tenrou” into another bottle labeled simply “Wendy Marvell,” and he’d stayed there, swimming in the bottom, for two years straight. 

 

The birthday invitations were so obvious, they _had_ to be Bickslow’s work. _’Come on down, bro,’_ they said. _’She’s legal now. Go for it.’_ It was EXACTLY how the seith’s brain worked. Next time Mest saw the mohawked bastard he was going to put a fist right through his face mask.

 

A knock on his door made him blink back to awareness, and he realized he’d been drifting in and out of consciousness. Luckily he hadn’t spilled the rest of the whiskey all over himself; it was weak and watered down, but it was still alcohol. Wasting alcohol at this point in his life was right up there with abandoning his friends and guild mates on an island to face Acnologia alone. They were both shitty things to do.

 

Another knock reminded him he had a visitor. He glanced at the clock: 3AM. Who the fuck would be knocking on his door at three in the fucking morning on a snowy Sunday in December? “Hang on!” he managed to call, though his voice sounded like he’d been hog-calling at high altitude for the last twenty-four hours. It actually hurt to speak.

 

Wincing and rubbing his throat, he stumbled to his feet and dropped the whiskey on his bedside table as he weaved his way to the door. He was battling perpetual five o’clock shadow, wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his sweatpants were old and frayed at the ankles, but fuck it, it was three in the morning. Whoever was at his door was going to have to deal with him how they found him.

 

“I swear to Mavis, Bickslow, if that’s yo-” The words cut off as he swung open the door and found himself staring into the startled brown eyes of Wendy Marvell.

 

“...Wendy?” he rasped, gaping at her as though she were a mirage who was sure to melt away the next time he blinked.

 

The young woman gave him a slightly awkward smile. “Hello, Mest-san.”

 

She was wearing a pretty blue velvet dress, tea length with long sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, edged in gold piping. It exactly matched the invitation to her birthday party, and Mest wondered if that had been the case the last two times he’d received the glossy invites in the mail. As she’d taken to doing the last few years, she’d pinned her hair back in a high ponytail, her bangs perfectly framing her pixie face in a way that made her look youthful, but not like a child. _Because she isn’t one._

 

“What are you doing here?” Mest asked after several long seconds of painful silence. He winced as soon as he said it; he hadn’t meant to sound so confrontational. But dammit, what _was_ she doing here? She had her green coat with fur edging folded over her arms, but he could see that her nose and cheeks were pink from the cold. Clearly she’d walked here from her party, through the cold, snowy night streets.

 

“I came to see you, Mest-san,” she said shyly. Biting her lip, she asked, “May… May I come in?”

 

Mest thought of the dirty dishes and piles of laundry around his unmade bed. “Sure.”

 

She stepped over the threshold, peering around like she was stepping into the zoo enclosure of a particularly unique form of animal life. Mest carefully locked the door behind her, using the action of turning the deadbolt to calm his nerves and get himself together. _Fuck, I’m too drunk for this._

 

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” he asked, trying to remember what hosts were supposed to do when guests dropped in on them unexpectedly. “Uh… would you like to sit?”

 

Wendy gave him a sweet smile. “I’m okay, Mest-san, thank you.”

 

“Oh.” Shit. That about expended his knowledge of hostly etiquette. Unsure what else to do, he leaned against the kitchen counter in front of the sink, blocking her view of the worst of the dirty dishes, and scrubbed a hand through his spiky black hair. It was a mess, but luckily it was always a _little_ messy. 

 

“You didn’t come to my party again.”

 

“Eh?” Mest looked up sharply, blinking a few times to get her form to come into focus. The alcohol was playing tricks with his perception. Sometimes she was just a soft blue blur, other times she was a twelve year old girl in a green dress like dragon scales, and then she’d resolve into the attractive young woman in blue velvet who’d knocked on his door a minute ago. It was a little nauseating, trying to keep up.

 

“I said you skipped my party again,” she repeated, turning to face him fully as she laid her coat across the single folding chair beside the card table he’d pressed into service as a dining room table. “That’s three years in a row, Mest-san. I’m starting to think you don’t really like me that much.”

 

“E...Eh?” Mest swallowed hard and held out a hand towards her, shaking it wildly. “No! No, that’s not it! I like you plenty, Wendy-chan. You’re great.” _Yeah, way to go, Slick. Real smooth._

 

Wendy giggled -- her giggle was something that hadn’t changed, even as everything else did -- and scrunched her face in an impish smile. “That’s good. I like being friends with you, Mest-san. I’d hate it if you didn’t like being friends with me, too.”

 

How was he supposed to respond to that? That he was grateful she’d still want to be friends with him after some of the truly shitty things he’d done in the past? That her friendship was one of the dearest things in his life? That he didn’t _want_ to _just_ be friends anymore? 

 

“That will never happen, Wendy,” he murmured, forcing his eyes to keep her in focus as she began to move around his poky apartment, examining the detritus of a life lived between quests.

 

Her attention landed on the invitation on his bedside table and she picked it up as she plopped down to sit on his mattress. Mest winced, thinking of her pretty dress against his filthy sheets. “You got the invitation then,” she said, flipping it over in her hands to pass her eyes over the words on the back.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I thought maybe they were going to the wrong address. Mira said she was sure they weren’t, but I worried about it.”

 

Mest cleared his throat. “Wendy, what are you doing here?” he asked, trying to be more conciliatory than before. “It’s three in the morning and snowing. You should go home. I’m sure Carla’s worried about you.”

 

“I told Carla I’d be out late. I’m an adult now. She can handle a night without me.” Putting the invitation back on his nightstand, Wendy turned her attention back to him. “I came right here after the party. I wanted to see you.”

 

“I find that hard to believe.”

 

“Why?”

 

Mest frowned. “Wendy, you’re a pretty, young dragon slayer at the most well-known guild in Fiore. The last thing you need is to be hanging around with a broken down drunk who’s one demerit away from being kicked out of what’s left of the Magic Council.”

 

“You think I’m pretty?” Her eyes brightened at the thought.

 

Mest blushed. “Wh… What? I … yes, of course. I mean… That’s not the point!”

 

Wendy hummed and reached idly for the half empty whiskey bottle on his nightstand. She unscrewed the top and gave it a sniff, wrinkling her nose. “This smells awful. You drink this?” Without waiting for an answer she brought the mouth of the bottle to her lips, tipped it back a little, and took a sip.

 

Mest bit the inside of his cheek as the image of her swallowing his whiskey did painfully inappropriate things to his libido.

 

Coughing, Wendy quickly recapped the bottle. “Ugh! That’s awful!”

 

“Sorry. It’s cheap.”

 

“I don’t know how you could drink enough of that stuff to get drunk,” she said with a frown.

 

Mest chuckled. She was adorable. “To be fair, that’s not what got me drunk; it’s just helping me maintain. The stuff I started the night with was worse.”

 

“You’re kidding.”

 

“Dead serious.”

 

“Well that’s just awful. You could have been at my party drinking GOOD stuff, and instead you’re all alone drinking swill.” She patted the bed beside her. “Come here.”

 

Mest’s eyes widened and he pressed back further against the counter. “Eh?”

 

“Come HERE. You’re drunk and probably going to have a really bad hangover in the morning. Let me heal you.”

 

Oh. “Oh. I… that’s not necessary, Wendy. I can manage.”

 

“Stop arguing and get over here.” Her eyes flashed pink with dragonforce.

 

Mest was too drunk and exhausted to argue, so he pushed away from the counter and shuffled back to the bed, dropping down beside her and hanging his head. “Okay. I’m here. What now?”

 

Wendy smiled in his peripheral vision. “Just relax,” she soothed, raising her hands to hover an inch above his skin. Then she closed her eyes and her palms began to glow with the soft green of healing magic.

 

Mest closed his eyes and shivered as he felt her methodically drawing the toxins and poisons out of his bloodstream; compressing them, compacting them, and eventually dispelling them. 

 

He didn’t know how long they sat like that, but he was pretty sure he’d begun to doze off when her small, soft hand rested on his right arm. “Mest-san? I’m done,” she murmured.

 

His head jerked up and he blinked a few times, forcing himself to wake up. “Oh? Ah, yes. Thanks, Wendy. I feel… a lot better.” _A lot more sober, actually. Which isn’t the same as better. Not tonight._ But she didn’t need to know that.

 

Her hand was still on his arm, and when he glanced in that direction he saw that her fingers were idly tracing the outline of his guild mark. “You still have it,” she murmured. “I thought the Magic Council made you give up your guild affiliation.”

 

Mest stared at her fingers as they trailed over the dips and furrows of the Fairy Tail mark. “I got special dispensation,” he murmured. “I guess helping save the world a few times has its perks.”

 

Wendy gave him a little cheeky smile, then went back to exploring his mark. “Why didn’t you stay? With the guild, I mean.”

 

Her fingers were doing things to him that _required_ him to have a drink. Preferably more than one. “I didn’t think I deserved to stay,” he said after a moment. “I spent so much time away when you all were doing so much to help other people. It wouldn’t have been right.”

 

“Master Makarov _made_ you do that,” Wendy argued, sounding irritated. “You did it _for_ Fairy Tail. You should have stayed with us.” Her fingers pressed into his bicep.

 

This had to stop. She couldn’t keep touching him like that. It was feeding too many of his monsters. 

 

Resting a hand over hers, he gently moved her hand away from his arm and placed it on the bed between them. “I’m still a member of Fairy Tail,” he said softly. “That’s why I still have the mark.”

 

“It’s not the same.” Her eyes were swimming, and Mest felt a crash of guilt as he realized she was about to cry. “It’s… it’s like Gildarts. He’s never there, and we miss him. We miss you. _I_ miss you. Why did you leave? You should have stayed. It’s not fair!”

 

Tears spilled down her cheeks and Mest immediately reached up to swipe them away with his thumb. “Hey hey, what’s this?” he asked. “No crying. It’s your birthday. Birthday girls don’t get to cry. Not tonight, okay?”

 

Wendy hiccupped as she reached for the invitation again, holding it in both hands and glaring at the gold embossed font. “It would have been a better birthday if you were there,” she muttered, angrily scrubbing an arm across her eyes. “Why don’t you ever come? I send you my invitation every year, but you never come.” She threw the square of cardstock away again.

 

Mest blinked. “You.. send it?”

 

“Of course!”

 

“Not Bickslow or Laxus or someone?”

 

She gave him a confused look, which thankfully seemed to dispense with the rest of her tears. “Why would Bickslow or Laxus invite you to _my_ birthday party?”

 

Mest blushed. That was a good point. “I just… didn’t think that you’d do it.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Um, did you not hear me earlier? Broken down drunk?”

 

“You’re my friend, Mest-san,” she murmured. “You’re my friend and I miss you. I want to see you. I thought, if I gave you a reason to come see me… maybe you’d do it.”

 

A fist-sized ball of guilt twisted Mest’s stomach. She looked so _sad_. Dammit, why did he always get things _wrong_ with her? “I’m sorry, Wendy,” he murmured, squeezing her hand. “And for the record, I never need a reason to see you. I’d be happy to see you any time.”

 

She smiled tearfully and rubbed her thumb across the back of his hand. “Then why don’t you?”

 

_Because I want to do so much more with you than sit and talk. Because the things I want to do with you aren’t things a guy does with a good girl like you. Because I don’t know what I’d do if you said no._

 

“I’m just an idiot, I guess,” he said aloud.

 

Wendy giggled despite her tears and shook his hand gently between them. “A big idiot,” she agreed.

 

“The biggest.”

 

“You’d give Natsu a run for his money.”

 

“Oy, that’s taking it a bit far.”

 

They laughed together, and then Wendy leaned over and kissed him.

 

Mest froze. It was just a little peck on the lips; nothing earth shattering. It was over almost as quickly as it began, though Wendy didn’t move back to her previous position, choosing instead to hover in his immediate orbit, her big brown eyes boring into his green ones. 

 

“Wendy…” Mest’s voice came to him from far away. “Why…?”

 

“You owe me a birthday present,” she murmured, unmoving. “You owe me three, actually. That’s how many times you’ve ignored my invitation and left me all alone on my birthday.”

 

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You had… the whole guild…”

 

“I didn’t want the whole guild,” she whispered. “I wanted you.”

 

His heart was going to break through his ribcage, it was hammering so hard. Her slender fingers were laced with his, holding their clasped hands on her knee. He could feel the warmth of her skin through her velvet dress. 

 

“Mest-san, do you know why I sent you that first invitation?” Wendy continued softly. 

 

Mest dearly wished he was still drunk, not able to process everything with perfect clarity like right now. “I… don’t.”

 

“Because I wanted to do this with you,” she whispered, and leaned forward to kiss him again. 

 

This time the kiss lasted longer, and Wendy’s free hand drifted up to cradle his cheek. The tips of her fingers brushed over the scars beneath his eye, teasing the delicate, sensitive flesh.

 

Mest moaned softly and furrowed the fingers of his own free hand into her silky blue hair, cradling the base of her skull and pulling her closer. She came easily, sliding into his lap as if that’s where she’d planned to be the entire time. Their hands separated and Mest wrapped his arm around her waist as Wendy curled hers around his neck.

 

Eventually they broke apart, panting. “Wendy…,” Mest breathed, resting his forehead against hers. “Holy shit…”

 

The petite dragonslayer giggled, combing her fingers through his messy black hair. “You’re a very good kisser, Mest-san,” she told him sweetly. “That was a very nice birthday present.”

 

Her fingers seared across his scalp, and before he could stop himself Mest was launching himself at her mouth again, desperate to taste her once more, before this strange, realistic dream melted away into another cold December morning with weak sunlight filtered through silver-white clouds. 

 

“Sweet Mavis, you taste so good,” he panted between kisses. 

 

“Erza-san made me strawberry cake,” she whimpered, tilting her head as his mouth sought out the straight line of her jaw, the soft curve of her throat, the smooth plumpness of her cheek. 

 

The mention of Erza made Mest’s blood run cold. Oh gods, what was he doing? Wendy had given him one innocent -- and one not quite so innocent -- kiss, and here he was, ready to ravish her like a lunatic. If Erza found out she’d kill him, and he’d happily bend his neck for the blade. 

 

With superhuman effort Mest forced himself back, grabbing both of Wendy’s arms and forcing her away.

 

“Eh? Mest-san, what are you doing?” Wendy struggled to reach his lips again, but Mest kept her at arm’s length.

 

“Wendy, you need to leave,” he said huskily, refusing to meet her eyes.

 

“What? Why!”

 

“Because I’m thirty-three, you’re just barely twenty, and I can’t do this with you.”

 

“Ooh!” She kicked him awkwardly.

 

“Ow! What the fuck, Wendy?” He dropped her arm instinctively so he could rub his shin, and Wendy took the opportunity to slide into his lap again.

 

“Mest-san, you are such a dummy!” she snapped, winding her arm around his neck and holding on tight so he couldn’t push her away again. “I’m tired of waiting for you to stop being an adorable, chivalrous, glorious idiot. I’ve wanted to kiss you since I was twelve years old, you _baka_! And now that I can finally do it without worrying that someone’s going to look at me like I’m some creepy loli-doll, you tell me to stop? No! I don’t want to!”

 

Mest gaped at her. This was… completely unexpected. He’d always figured this attraction was thoroughly one-sided. “You… what?” He wasn’t drunk anymore, but the room was still spinning.

 

Wendy huffed in exasperation. “I. Want. To. Kiss. You,” she said, carefully enunciating each word. “I was all excited on my 18th birthday, did you know that? I got all dressed up in my prettiest dress and wore my hair in the sexiest, most adult style I could manage, and I waited and waited, and you _never showed up!_ I was going to steal a kiss from you in the broom cupboard, like all the other couples do when they think no one’s paying attention. It was going to be dreamy and romantic and sweet and you… you IDIOT! You screwed it up! And then you did it again when I turned 19, and then again _tonight_ and I’m SORRY, but I’m done waiting!”

 

Mest really should have been expecting her to launch herself at him this time, but she still managed to take him by surprise, knocking him backwards as she climbed on top of him on all fours and attacked his mouth. Her bangs brushed over his forehead as her ponytail slithered around her neck to drape over his shoulder, a silky cascade of blue. Her knees were planted on either side of his hips, the blue velvet of her skirt rucked up around her thighs, and he couldn’t stop his hands from reaching down to stroke the milky pale flesh of her legs.

 

“You’re insane,” he groaned when she abandoned his mouth to begin nibbling at his throat. 

 

“You’re the one who’s been drowning himself in cheap whiskey instead of kissing me for the last two years,” Wendy growled. Reaching down, she grabbed his hands and yanked them away from her legs, forcing his arms around her waist. “Hold me like you mean it.”

 

Mest wasn’t about to argue; not at this point. Not when she’d made herself _perfectly_ clear. He wound his arms tightly around her waist, pulling her flush against his body as his mouth latched onto the side of her neck, sucking hungrily. Wendy moaned, her body rippling as she tried simultaneously to pull away and press closer. Mest kept one hand firmly planted on the small of her back as the other snaked up her spine to furrow into her hair, holding her head still as he moved his mouth down to explore her collarbone.

 

“Oh… Oh, yes,” Wendy whimpered, pressing her face into his hair. “Mest-san…”

 

“Drop the -san,” Mest mumbled into the hollow of her throat. HIs tongue flicked out to taste her pulse, pleased to find it was racing along with his.

 

“Then stop holding back,” Wendy whispered. 

 

He moaned and rolled, pinning her beneath him on the mattress. “You have no idea what I want to do with you, Wendy,” he panted, pressing their foreheads together. 

 

“So tell me.” She dragged her hands up his sides, sending electric sparks down every nerve ending. “Tell me everything, Mest-san.”

 

“You’ll hate me.”

 

“I never could.”

 

Mest groaned and caught her mouth again, keeping her occupied as one hand moved down to tug on the skirt of her dress, pulling it up over her hip. 

 

“I’ve wanted you for years, Wendy,” he whispered into her mouth, his fingers toying with the leg of her panties. They were bikini cut; daring without being too flashy. “Even… Even when I shouldn’t have. When you were sixteen and I saw you at the Grand Magic Games. You were cheering in the stands and I…” He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to dispel the memory. 

 

“You weren’t a little girl anymore,” he whimpered, feeling like a fool and a creep and a lovesick idiot, all in one breath. “You weren’t my little Wendy, and I wasn’t your big brother anymore. You were someone entirely different, but… but I was the same guy I always was.”

 

He swallowed and pressed on. “When I got that invitation for your 18th birthday, I got drunk. And I’ve stayed drunk for the last two years. You deserve so much better than this, Wendy. You deserve so much better than _me_. I deserve to be swimming in the bottom of a bottle of gin.”

 

Wendy’s hands had been rubbing up and down his back in long, soothing strokes, but at this they paused, then moved up to cradle either side of his face, forcing him to meet her concerned brown eyes. “Don’t ever say that, Mest-san,” she whispered, stroking her thumbs over his cheekbones. “You deserve wonderful things. You’re a wonderful man.”

 

“I think you drank too much spiked punch at your party, Wendy.”

 

“I’m perfectly sober, thank you. I know what I’m saying.” One hand carded into his hair as the other continued stroking his cheek. “You saved my life so many times, saved the world so many times. How can someone like that be bad?”

 

“Even bad people sometimes do good things, Wendy. That doesn’t make them good.”

 

“Gajeel crucified Levy and Shadow Gear on a tree when he was still in Phantom Lord. Gajeel’s a good man. Laxus and the Raijinshuu tried to takeover the guild; they almost killed people. Laxus and the Raijinshuu are good people.” She kissed his nose. “You had a crush on an underage girl and didn’t act on it. In comparison, you’re almost a saint.”

 

Mest blushed and dropped his face to hide in her throat. “It sounds worse when you say it out loud. Oh gods…”

 

Wendy giggled and hugged him closer. “Would it make you feel better if I said I’ve had a crush on you since Tenrou?”

 

It did, a little. But not much. “Not really, no. It’s okay to have crushes when you’re a teenager. Not when you’re a twenty-something going on thirty year old man.”

 

“Well I think you’re wonderful,” Wendy soothed, combing her fingers through his hair. “And I’ve been waiting for years to be able to kiss you and touch you like this. Don’t take that away from me, Mest-san. Please.”

 

Her deep blue ponytail was pooled above her left shoulder, and Mest pressed his face into the silky strands, inhaling her lilac scent as he tried to get his thoughts in order. None of this seemed real, yet her body was real enough beneath him, and her hands were real enough in his hair. If it was a dream it was the cruelest dream he’d ever had. 

 

“I’m pretty sure I love you, Wendy Marvell,” he whispered, and felt her stiffen beneath him. He plowed on. “I’m sorry, but I do. And if… touching you like this means I’ll lose your friendship, then I’d rather cut my hands off. Because I can’t lose you. Not again. I lost you once and it nearly killed me. I won’t survive if I lost you again.”

 

She was quiet for a minute, and Mest was too terrified to raise his head and look at her, convinced she’d be staring at him in horror and revulsion. So when he felt her lips touch the crisscrossed scars beneath his eye he jerked up in surprise.

 

Wendy smiled at him. There were tears in her eyes but she didn’t look sad. If anything, she looked content.

 

“That’s much better, Mest,” she murmured, cupping his cheek in one soft hand. “No more secrets, ne? They hurt too much.”

 

She hadn’t tacked the -san onto his name. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

 

“I kind of think you do, and my opinion’s the one that matters, ne?” Wendy kissed his nose, then his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad I came to find you, Mest. I think you needed me here.”

 

Instead of letting him answer, she nudged his cheek with her nose until she was able to capture his mouth with her own again, kissing him sweetly. Mest moaned and tentatively touched his tongue to the seam of her lips. His heart surged when she opened her mouth easily for him, letting his tongue slide across her own. She tasted like strawberry cake and cheap whiskey.

 

He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He wanted to touch EVERYTHING, and Wendy seemed more than willing to oblige. She gainfully raised herself away from the mattress as he struggled to push her dress up, and she shrugged the soft blue velvet onto the floor. That left her in a simple pair of black satin panties and a matching bra, which looked like slashes of midnight against her milk white skin. 

 

Mest sat back on his heels and took the opportunity to just gaze at her. This was a woman’s body, no doubt about it. She didn’t have Juvia’s hips or Lucy’s breasts or Levy’s perky backside, but what she had was perfect and beautifully Wendy. She’d grown into every dip, every curve, until that gangly little girl became a full-fledged woman. And here she was, lying on his rumpled mattress, giving herself to him.

 

“Have you… Is this your… first…?” he asked, stumbling over his words. Gods, how was he supposed to talk about sex with someone who he’d known since she was a pre-teen? It was like talking about orgasms with your own mother; it just felt _wrong_.

 

Wendy blushed, and Mest watched the red flush spread down her chest. “No,” she admitted softly. “Romeo and I… we dated for a little while…”

 

“Oh.” Mest didn’t know if he felt more disappointed or relieved. In the end he settled for relieved. He’d never expected to have her here like this, so he certainly couldn’t expect her to have saved herself for him. And at least this way he wouldn’t end up hurting her. 

 

He smiled to let her know he wasn’t upset. “That’s fine. Romeo’s a good guy. I’m glad it was someone special to you.”

 

Wendy smiled shyly, her blush deepening. “He’s with Chelia now. They’re really cute.”

 

“I think you’re cuter.” Oh Mavis, he was done for. He was already spouting the ridiculous coupley babble like a love drunk idiot. If Bickslow ever found out he’d never hear the end of it.

 

Wendy giggled and poked at his stomach. “You have really nice eyes, Mest,” she observed, smiling fondly. “They make me think of summertime.”

 

Mest felt himself blushing now. “I don’t know what to do, Wendy,” he admitted softly. “I have a million things I’ve dreamed of doing with you, but now that you’re here, I have no idea where to start.”

 

Wendy sat up slowly, resting her weight on one arm as the opposite hand smoothed up his bare chest. “It’s okay,” she soothed, cupping the side of his neck. “I’ll start. I know what to do.”

 

Sitting up more fully, she reached behind her and easily unhooked her bra, shaking the scrap of black fabric down her arms and dropping it over the side of the bed to join her discarded dress. 

 

“Oh fuck… Wendy, you’re amazing…” Mest’s eyes didn’t know where to settle. Her breasts were RIGHT THERE, two perfect handfuls tipped with pale pink nipples, but her big brown eyes were there, too, looking so vulnerable and insecure, and he wanted to look everywhere all at once to let her know that she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on. In the end he settled for swooping forward, his hands on her waist, and taking her left breast into his mouth. His nose pressed into the pillow soft flesh as his lips worked, suckling her tenderly, and Wendy let out a satisfying squeak of surprise, followed by a little whimper of pleasure. 

 

“You… are perfect,” he mumbled against her chest as he released her left breast and kissed across the valley between the two to apply the same treatment to the right one. 

 

Wendy gasped softly as his tongue teased the hard peak of her nipple in his mouth. Her hands pawed at his shoulders and the back of his head, and Mest decided then and there that he was going to show her what thirteen extra years of sexual experience did for a man. He was far from a virgin, after all. 

 

He released her breast and leaned up to kiss her nose. “I’m going to it up to you, Wendy Marvell,” he promised. “Three birthday gifts in one shot.”

 

She blushed prettily, her chocolate brown eyes dilating. “O… Okay…”

 

Mest grinned. Her bravery from a few minutes ago had been replaced with shyness and curiosity. She was cute as a button. 

 

“I’ll take these,” he said, hooking his fingers into her panties. Wendy squealed as he teleported away, taking her underwear with him and rematerializing beside the card table. He dropped the panties on her coat, then turned and winked at her as he pushed his ratty sweats down over his hips and let them pool on the floor around his feet. 

 

Wendy’s eyes widened as she scrambled into a sitting position, her eyes locked between his legs. “You’re not wearing any boxers…” she murmured, reaching out for him absently as he approached the bed again.

 

“Nope,” he admitted, trying not to laugh as her already wide eyes got even bigger. He stopped beside the bed to let her get an eyeful. “You okay?”

 

“Eh?” She glanced up at him, then her eyes dropped back between his legs again. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. Oh wow…” 

 

Mest closed his eyes and moaned softly as her cool white fingers touched his member. He was already half hard, and her delicate touch soon had him fully erect.

 

“You’re… bigger,” Wendy whispered, as if imparting a secret.

 

“Than Romeo?” Mest asked huskily.

 

Wendy nodded. “Is it because you’re older?”

 

Mest laid his hand on her head, stroking her blue hair. “I doubt it. Are you scared?”

 

Wendy wrapped her hand carefully around his cock, squeezing experimentally. “No,” she said. Then, giving him a devilish smile, “You’re not THAT much bigger, hot shot.”

 

Mest’s heart thumped painfully. “You minx,” he growled, then hurled himself at her.

 

Wendy laughed as they tumbled backwards onto the bed, limbs tangled together. Mest buried his face between her breasts, pulling her legs up around his waist, moaning as the liquid heat between her legs pressed against his stomach. 

 

“Fuck, I want to taste every inch of you,” he growled, squeezing her thigh as he kissed down her belly.

 

“Your mouth is so _hot_ ,” Wendy whimpered, arching her back.

 

The scent of her arousal hit Mest’s nose, and for a moment all other senses went silent. It had been so _long_ since he’d had a woman like this; even longer since it actually _meant_ something. And now here he was, about to plunge his tongue into the most delicate parts of Wendy Marvell, the woman who’d haunted him for at least the last two years; the last fifteen if he was honest with himself. 

 

“I love you,” he moaned, hoisting her legs over his shoulders. “I love you so goddamn much, Wendy.”

 

“M-Mest… OH!” Wendy’s hands clung to his hair as Mest buried his face between her legs and slipped his tongue into her body. “Oh… GODS!”

 

He was going too fast, but he couldn’t stop himself; he’d wanted to taste her for so long. It was everything he’d ever imagined. He closed his eyes and pressed closer, reaching deeper into her body as his fingers stroked her clit, making the dragon slayer squeal. 

 

“Mest! Wh… What… OH!” Wendy’s thighs squeezed his head as she writhed beneath him, trying to press her hips closer to his mouth but also trying to squirm away from the overstimulation. “I can’t…!”

 

Mest pulled back, withdrawing his tongue and immediately replacing it with two of his fingers. “Yes you can,” he encouraged huskily, moving his mouth to her clit. “I want you to. You can do it.” His tongue swirled around the throbbing bundle of nerves. His free hand pushed at her right leg, forcing it away from his head to lie flat against the bed, bent at the knee, spreading her open and tightening her sheath around his fingers.

 

Wendy choked on a scream, her hips jerking desperately. 

 

“Come on, Wendy,” Mest moaned, sitting up to watch her ride his hand. “You’re so close, I know you are. I want to watch you come apart. Fuck, I’ve dreamed about this. I want to see it with my own eyes.” His thumb took over stimulating her clit as he slid a third finger into her tight body.

 

Wendy’s eyes snapped open and she jolted upright, supporting herself on her arms as her body shattered. “MESSSST!” she shrieked, her hips rocking desperately as her orgasm milked his fingers, pulling him deeper.

 

“Oh fuck, Wendy, you’re gorgeous,” Mest moaned, his eyes focused on the pink lips of her pussy contracting around his fingers. Eventually he dragged his eyes up to her face. She flinched each time her muscles tightened around him, whimpering sweetly.

 

“Come here,” Mest soothed, pulling her close to his chest with his free arm, unwilling to extract his fingers just yet. Wendy awkwardly scooted toward him, her legs spread to accommodate his hand between her thighs. He kissed her forehead, tucking her head beneath his chin as she shivered against him. “You were so good.”

 

She laughed breathlessly. “I think… I’m supposed to say that.”

 

The spatial mage dipped his head until he found her mouth and kissed her deeply, massaging the small of her back as he maneuvered her more fully into his lap, her legs loose around his hips. Wendy groaned as he withdrew his fingers from her body, then yelped as the head of his penis probed her entrance.

 

“Mest,” she whispered against his mouth. 

 

“I need you, Wen,” he rasped. “You’ve made me so hard.”

 

Wendy’s arms looped around his neck as she slid closer, forcing him deeper. Mest’s eyes slammed shut as the liquid velvet of her sheath wrapped around his cock, inch by inch.

 

“Fuck…” he gasped, winding his arms around her waist and pressing her flush to his belly. 

 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Wendy soothed, her own eyes closed as she sank deeper onto him. Her hands stroked the nape of his neck.

 

Eventually she was seated on him fully, her legs drawn up beneath his arms, her bottom cradled on his thighs. She sighed, contented, and opened her eyes, seeking out his clear green ones.

 

“Make love to me, Mest,” she murmured. “You can be as hard or gentle as you want. I love you.”

 

The spatial mage gulped. Her face was so open, so trusting. “I won’t last long,” he murmured.

 

Wendy giggled and kissed him softly. “It’s okay. We can take our time another night.”

 

Another night. She wanted to do this again. With _him_. Mest didn’t think it was possible for his cock to get harder, but somehow it did, swelling noticeably in Wendy’s body. She grinned as she felt the change. 

 

“Come on, Stud,” she cooed, digging her nails into his shoulders.

 

Mest felt his eyes dilate, then growled and captured her mouth in a hungry kiss. He wrapped an arm under her bottom and started to move her, lifting her up and then easing her back down, over and over. Wendy gasped into his mouth as he stroked in and out of her with each move. She wiggled her legs into a better position, getting her knees under her so that she could take over setting the rhythm. 

 

“This is the most beautiful dream I’ve ever had,” Mest moaned, watching her move. “It’s going to break my heart when I wake up.”

 

“Mmm… You’re not dreaming, Mest,” Wendy murmured, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Mest dropped his head to take her breast in his mouth, sucking hungrily. Rocking forward, he eased her onto her back beneath him as he started to thrust into her. 

 

“Ah… yes!” Wendy threw her head back, hugging his hips with her knees. Her arms stretched above her head, fingers flexing eagerly. “Harder, Mest!”

 

He released her breast and rested his hands on either side of her head so he could gaze down into her face. “Thank the gods you cured my drunkenness,” he panted, his hips snapping forward with greater speed and force. 

 

“W...Why?”

 

“Because I couldn’t do this with whiskey dick.” Rearing up on his knees, Mest took her hips and lifted her up from the bed as he started to fuck her mercilessly, holding her steady as he pounded into her.

 

Wendy arched her back and squealed as the angle had him slamming into that special, sensitive spot deep inside her body. The one that made her toes curl and her core throb. 

 

“I’m gonna cum, Wendy,” Mest grunted. “Fuck… I’m gonna cum…”

 

“Yes... YES! M-Mest…!” 

 

Wendy’s pussy contracted around his cock as her orgasm hit and it was too much for him to take. The world went white as he came, roaring like an animal. His release erupted out of him in hot, thick spurts for what felt like forever. It filled her womb, then overflowed and seeped out around his dick, dripping down Mest’s thighs. And he just _kept cumming_. Clearly his body had decided it wasn’t taking any chances and was going to make the most of this opportunity with the sky dragon slayer in his bed.

 

Eventually he forced himself to pull out and tumbled to the side, ending up on his back and panting beside her. His orgasm kept going, thick white semen pulsing out of the tip of his cock.

 

“Oh… wow,” Wendy panted, her dreamy brown eyes watching his dick slowly deflate. “You really needed that, huh?”

 

Mest laughed breathlessly. “Yeah. I did.”

 

“I’m glad I could give it to you.”

 

He tilted his head and smiled at her. “So’m I.”

 

She giggled and reached down between her legs. “You kind of made a mess, though,” she said, showing him the evidence on her fingertips. “I’m all sticky.”

 

Mest caught her hand and brought it to his chest, resting it over his heart. It was finally beginning to slow down. “I guess I have to clean you up, huh?” He kissed her knuckles. “Ever had shower sex?”

 

Wendy stared at him for a second, then grinned wickedly. “Nope.”

 

##########

 

It was morning.

 

Mest knew it was morning because sunlight was turning the world red through his eyelids. He harumphed softly and rolled onto his side, dragging a pillow over his head to block out the light and try to catch a few more minutes of sleep.

 

“Shh, you’ll wake him!”

 

Mest’s ears perked up, and memories of the previous night flooded back. He realized his pillow smelled like Wendy’s shampoo, and his sheets smelled clean and fresh, because he’d had to change them after his cock decided to impersonate a cum fountain. Every muscle in his body ached pleasantly, and he chuckled remembering how they’d gotten so sore.

 

“I don’t know, maybe later? We’ll see.”

 

Wendy was whispering to someone, but Mest didn’t sense anyone else in his apartment. Dragging the pillow off his face he peered at her through one eye, squinting against the sunlight that flooded his room.

 

She was wearing one of his t-shirts; she must have fished it out of his wardrobe. It hung off one slender shoulder. Her back was to him as she sat cross-legged, hunched over something in her lap. As he watched, her shoulders started to shake and she made a small, strangled sound. _Oh gods… She’s crying! What did I do?_

 

“Eh? Wendy?” He rolled into a sitting position, reaching for her. “You all ri-?”

 

Before he could finish his question he was cut off by a chorus of girlish screaming and catcalling. He recoiled in surprise as Wendy twisted around to look at him over her shoulder, revealing what she held in her lap: a portable communication lacrima.

 

“Ah! Mest!” Wendy squeaked, her eyes wide with shock. “You’re awake!”

 

The screen of the rectangular lacrima was crowded with female faces. Mest could pick out Cana’s face front and center, while Lucy, Mirajane, Levy, Lisanna, and Juvia were all pushing and shoving to get into the frame. “Woohoo, lookin’ _gooooood_ , Gryder!” Cana catcalled, winking at him from the screen and giving him a thumbs up.

 

“Oh my gosh, Wendy, you never mentioned how CUT he is!” Lucy squealed, clapping her hands eagerly. 

 

“Almost as sexy as my Gray-sama,” Juvia agreed, hearts in her eyes.

 

“The Mendy ship has sailed!” Mirajane crowed, hugging her sister.

 

“I can’t wait to tell Bickslow!” Lisanna agreed.

 

Mest’s eyes widened at that. “Holy shit, DON’T!” He lunged for the lacrima.

 

“Buh-bye, Gryder!’ Cana cooed, winking one more time before the connection went dark, a split second before Mest’s hand connected with it. He ended up face down on the mattress, one arm extended, his bare ass warmed by the sun pouring through his skinny windows.

 

“Well fuck,” he grumbled into the bedclothes.

 

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, Mest!” Wendy exclaimed, fussing over him as she helped him sit up and smoothed his messy bed head. “I didn’t mean to wake you! It’s just… I promised the girls I’d tell them if things went well last night.” She blushed and peeked at him through her lashes, trying to gauge his reaction.

 

He sighed and scooted up the bed to lean against the wall, holding his arms open for her. She beamed and crawled to him, the neck of his t-shirt gaping enough for him to a get a view of everything underneath before she curled up against his chest. He settled his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

 

“So you think it went well?” he said as they got comfortable. 

 

Wendy beamed and kissed his collarbone. “That’s a dumb question, Mest.”

 

“I figured I’d check. Can never be too sure with you young’uns.”

 

She laughed and punched him lightly. “Shut up, old man, or I’ll call Cana back and tell her eeeeeverything.”

 

Mest snorted. “I know how you girls work. You’re going to do that anyway. Your threats don’t work against me, temptress.”

 

“Mmmm.” She tilted her head back so she could begin dropping teasing kisses on his neck. “Temptress? I’ve never been called that before.”

 

Mest tilted her chin up so he could look into her warm brown eyes. “Well trust me,” he told her. “You are very,” he kissed her, “very,” another kiss, “tempting.”

 

Wendy’s cheeks turned pink as her smile widened. “This is the best birthday ever.”

 

Mest laughed and hugged her tight, pulling her into his lap. “Does it make up for me being a colossal ass the last couple years?”

 

Wendy scrunched up her face and tapped her chin thoughtfully, sitting back on her heels. “I don’t know,” she hummed. “I think you might need to make love to me a few more times before you’re forgiven.”

 

“Oh is that so?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“I couldn’t get you to reconsider?”

 

“This is non-negotiable.”

 

“Well then, I guess it can’t be helped.”

 

“‘Fraid not.”

 

Mest pulled her close to his chest again, his lips grazing hers. “Shall we start now?” he purred.

 

Wendy moaned happily and looped her arms around his neck, then froze and grunted. “No. We can’t.”

 

Mest frowned. “Eh? Why not?”

 

“I… kinda told the girls I’d bring you ‘round the guild hall.” Wendy blushed brighter. 

 

“Why?”

 

“So they can paw you, obviously. You never visit. They’ve all forgotten how handsome you are. Why do you think they freaked out when they saw you through the lacrima?”

 

“I figured it had something to do with me being naked.”

 

Wendy giggled. “That was part of it, I’m sure. But still, I promised. Let’s get dressed and go now, then we can have sex all night.” She bounced excitedly in his lap.

 

Mest groaned as her movements did lewd things to his lower body. “Oh gods, this is what I get for falling in love with someone almost half my age,” he groaned. “You’ve got too much damn energy.”

 

“I’m not THAT much younger than you, Mest,” Wendy chided, already crawling out of his lap. “Come on, let’s go! Everyone wants to see you anyway. Bickslow’s always asking about you.”

 

Bickslow. Fuck. 

 

“That seith asshole is going to give me nothing but grief,” Mest groaned, rolling onto his stomach and hiding his head under a pillow. “He’s going to make fun of me and call me old man and cradle robber.”

 

“Well you can make fun of him right back,” Wendy said, throwing clothes at him from his closet. “And I’m the only one who gets to call you old man, and I say it with affection and love. If he tries it I’ll punch him in the nuts. I have special dispensation from Lisanna.”

 

Mest dragged the pillow away from his head and arched his eyebrow at her. “Yeah?”

 

“Yep.” She was shimmying back into her party dress from the night before.

 

Mest sat up. “I like your friends, Wendy.”

 

She beamed at him and held out her hand to help him off the bed. “They’re your friends, too, _baka_. If you came around more often you’d know that.”

 

He grabbed her hand and yanked her towards him. She stumbled forward and ended up between his knees, her own knees pressed against the edge of the mattress.

 

“I’ll be there every day from now on, Wendy,” he told her softly, gazing up into her eyes. “I promise. No more secrets.”

 

Wendy smiled, her brown eyes softening. “No more secrets,” she agreed, leaning down to kiss him tenderly.

 

Mest leaned back, bringing her with him as he stretched out on the bed.

 

“We have to go, Mest,” Wendy murmured into his mouth as his hands tugged at her dress.

 

“They’ve waited long enough to see me,” he responded, squeezing the luscious curve of her ass. “They can wait a little longer.”

 

By the time they reached the guild hall, it was almost time to go back to bed.

 

**THE END**


End file.
